Happy Holidays
by sheerpoetry
Summary: Drabbles featuring Aziraphale and Crowley as they spend holidays together.
1. Mysterious and spooky

Crowley and Aziraphale had been...entertaining each other on the couch for quite some time when the doorbell rang. After disentangling himself from the angel, Crowley stumbled to the door, still a bit heady from the angel's kisses.

"Damn kids," he muttered as he yanked the door open, grabbing the large bowl of sweets Aziraphale had brought over.

"Trick-or—" began a small voice. Two horrified eyes stared up at him through a Batman mask. The mask emitted a terrified scream, then turned and sprinted down the block.

"What the—" Crowley shut the door. "He—what was all that about?"

Aziraphale stared up at Crowley, giggling uncontrollably and holding his middle.

"_What?!" _ Crowley demanded of the shaking angel.

"Well, my dear. Have you seen yourself?"

"I—" Crowley walked over to the mirror, then burst out laughing himself. What he saw was undoubtedly demonic: severe black suit rumpled, tie undone, amber eyes burning fire (as they do when he is passionate), and enormous dark wings spanning out behind him. "Well. I guess I do look a bit...frightful." He said to the angel with a leer.


	2. Hangin' with my peeps

"Angel, there better be a damn good explanation for this," Crowley demanded as he entered his flat.

Aziraphale looked up, flustered. "Oh! You're home—early."

Crowley glared, surveying the mess in his living room. "Angel," he warned.

"Alright, no need to be snippy. I was just putting together a bit of a treat for Easter." Aziraphale's "treat" had completely consumed the coffee table. The area was covered in green cellophane grass, plastic eggs, lots of chocolate, and oddly-shaped neon puffs.

Crowley examined the array of products on his table before picking up one of the puffs. "And what in creation is _this_?"

"Have a bite," Aziraphale suggested.

"Have _what_?"

Aziraphale stood up and took the puff from Crowley. "Open," the angel demanded.

"I don't think—" Aziraphale took advantage of the Crowley's open mouth and stuffed the sweet in. The demon's eyes closed with pleasure as Aziraphale laughed. "What _was_ that?"

"That, my dear, is what the Americans call a 'Peep,"' Aziraphale related, grabbing the box off the table. "Have another?"

Crowley took the box. "Only if you do, angel," the demon leered, lifting one of the marshmallow creatures to the angel's lips.

"Crowley—" Aziraphale began.

"Come on, angel. Just a little bite. What harm did one bite ever cause?"


	3. I'll be home for Christmas

Normally, holidays were always Aziraphale's affairs. But, knowing they were both making an effort and it was Aziraphale's favorite, Crowley had taken it upon himself to make this Christmas a special one. The angel in question, as was customary on lazy Sundays, was making the morning pastry run, leaving Crowley in the flat feigning sleep. Once he was sure Aziraphale had left the apartment, the demon sprang into action. Having no idea of how far was _too_ far, Crowley was intent on a picture-perfect Christmas—said picture being a shot out of one of those sappy American films the angel was always watching.

Aziraphale returned a bit later, bag slightly heavier than normal, having purchased a delightful array of pastries, scones, biscuits, and a French loaf that was far too appealing. Aziraphale paused at the door, smiling as he used the key Crowley had given him. He remembered how flustered his counterpart had been that day, the gaze behind those sunglasses unknowingly anxious. Speaking of the demon, Aziraphale was immediately covered by a slim, warm body upon opening the door.

"Crowley," he began impatiently, "whatever is the problem?"

Crowley would not let him pass. Taking the bags and setting them on the floor, he took Aziraphale's hands in his. "Ssshh. I have a surprise." Having not yet donned his sunglasses this morning, Aziraphale could see the light shining in Crowley's eyes. Whatever it was, it was something big. Aziraphale squeezed the hands in his as a gesture of acceptance. Crowley knew his angel far too well and planted a kiss on the other man's lips. "You have to close your eyes." Aziraphale glanced up, meeting Crowley's hopeful gaze and realized he could deny him nothing. It was Crowley's turn to squeeze. "Trust me?"

Aziraphale smiled, closing the distance between them. "My dear, I _do_," he promised as he kissed Crowley properly. When they broke for air, both more than a little breathless, Crowley rested his head against the angel's shoulder. "Now. About that surprise?"

"Ah, right! Close your eyes." They once again joined hands, fingers intertwined, as Crowley led Aziraphale farther into the flat before coming to a stop in the living area. "Okay. You can open them now." Aziraphale's shocked gasp was more than audible as he surveyed the room. The Christmas tree in the corner was easily ten feet tall, draped in lights, tinsel, and ornaments. It seemed there were snowflakes or snowmen or Santas on almost every available surface. "Do you like it?" Crowley's voice was soft, almost vulnerable.

"_Crowley_. This is..." At a complete loss for words, Aziraphale kissed Crowley soundly.

Crowley broke the kiss, a sly smile on his face. "I guess this stuff works after all, then. I might have to leave it up year-round!" Met with the angel's puzzled expression, Crowley pointed above them.

"_Mistletoe_."


End file.
